


pleats (please)

by dayone (vitasoy)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Boys in Skirts, Deepthroating, Dom/sub Undertones, Established Relationship, Fingers in Mouth, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-20
Updated: 2021-01-20
Packaged: 2021-03-18 18:28:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28871586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vitasoy/pseuds/dayone
Summary: “Just what am I gonna do with you, huh?”“Well, I sure can think of a couple things,” he quipped, a mischievous glint in his eyes.In which Konoha does some shopping.
Relationships: Konoha Akinori/Washio Tatsuki
Comments: 2
Kudos: 23





	pleats (please)

Konoha borderline had a problem when it came to online shopping. One day it would be a Supreme cash gun (though he rarely ever actually had cash on hand), and the next it would be giant blow up T. rex costume that now sat abandoned in the corner of his closet. Washio had long since gotten used to seeing new random trinkets appearing in his apartment every time he visited. 

Even so, of course, Konoha finds a way to surprise.

Washio learns this fact once more as he looked up from his spot on the couch. His previous plan to spend the evening just relaxing had been destroyed single handedly by a not-so-familiar silhouette, now skipping into the living room.

“What do you think? It’s my newest purchase,” Konoha announced, giving a twirl to show off said item. 

Washio couldn’t respond, too busy looking, staring,  _ devouring _ the exhibit on display in front of him. Konoha stood, a smug smile plastered on his face, with a hand at his waist. The large t-shirt he usually wore at home was tied into a knot, showing off the waistband of a grey skirt that now snugly hugged his hips. His slender thighs disappeared under its stiff pleats, covered by white stockings that rose up to meet the skirt’s hem, ending just above the knee. The skin tight fabric left little to the imagination, outlining every bump of his muscled legs. A soft bulge of plush spilled over the top of the taut material. When he spun around, the skirt lifted with a breeze and gave Washio a pitifully brief sneak peak of a couple extra centimetres of skin.

It wasn’t enough.

Before he knew it, his book had been discarded somewhere on the floor and what replaced it in his palms were those lush thighs he had been fixated on. Konoha secured himself in place, locking his legs around Washio’s waist and wrapping his arms behind his neck. Without a word, Washio chased after Konoha’s lips, landing his target just as Konoha let out a light chuckle. 

Their teeth clashed more than he intended and the kiss wasn’t nearly as gentle as if could’ve been, but Washio didn’t have time to care as he briskly carried Konoha into the bedroom. With a knee on the bed and hand shifted to cradle Konoha’s head, he dropped them both back onto the sheets. 

A laugh floated from Konoha’s throat again, “What’s with the rush, Tatsuki?” He smirked, pleased to see the effect he had on the taller man, “We have all night.”

Washio felt light-headed. He leaned down, supporting his weight with an elbow by Konoha’s head, and left a chaste kiss at the corner of his mouth before moving next to his ear. “Oh you like messing with me, do you?” he whispered lowly, leaving another right on the shell of his ear. 

The warm breath, brush of his lips, and barely-there scratch of his stubble raised goosebumps down Konoha’s back. He hummed in affirmation just as Washio shifted his attention onto his neck. He traced his way down with slow kisses, pausing over the pulse point to lick and suck lightly, making sure to not leave any visible marks above the collar line. He took his time, savouring the path downwards until Konoha’s hand tangled itself in Washio’s soft hair, urging him even lower. 

Washio’s other hand wandered under Konoha’s t-shirt, holding his waist still as the man under him began squirming restlessly. His lips continued drifting and Washio made a point of sucking a bruise right at the edge of where a button-up shirt could reasonably conceal. Konoha sighed blissfully but still had the rationality to comment, “Fuck. If that shows I’ll kill you.”

Washio payed him no mind, continuing to work on his neck until he reached the collarbone, one of his favourite parts. He grazed the delicate skin with his teeth and followed the trail with open mouthed kisses, occasionally sucking and soothing the area with the flat of his tongue. His hand moved up to Konoha’s chest and circled a half-perked nipple with his thumb. Konoha hissed and swore colourfully, grip tightening on Washio’s hair.

The taller man pulled back, quickly discarding his own shirt as well as removing his partner’s. He paused to admire the view under him. Konoha was blushed all the way to the tips of his ears, and the marks left on his neck were beginning to bloom. His chest heaved with shallow breaths and the pretty pink buds stood up at the brush of cold air. A noticeable tent was already forming in his skirt. 

Licking his lips, Washio leaned back in, finding Konoha’s own lips this time, and was welcomed with a silent sigh. He dipped into his mouth, meeting his tongue and tasting the lingering sweetness. 

Warm. Everything was so warm. Konoha was burning beneath his fingers and under his tongue. Washio’s composure was crumbling and he kissed like it was the only thing he knew how to do, forgetting to pause to breathe until his head was spinning and Konoha’s lips were his only anchor. They pulled apart, panting, gulping down their mingled breaths as they tried to clear the fog from their brain. Konoha’s parted lips were red and puffy, still glistening and connected to Washio through a trail of saliva.

Washio’s hand rested on the skirt’s button, ready to scrap the offending piece of fabric before he suddenly came up with a better plan. 

_ The skirt stays on. _

He dipped his hand underneath, dragging the fingers up the thigh slowly to find the band of his underwear. But instead of any fabric, he was met with smooth skin all the way up to the hip bone.

Ah, it seemed that Konoha was a step ahead.

“Did you-” Washio looked up, and found Konoha smirking proudly back at him.

_ So that’s how he wants to play. _

He could hear the blood pounding in his ears feel it rushing down to where his own boxers were becoming uncomfortably restrictive. He gripped one thigh tightly, thumb digging into the soft skin as he clenched his jaw and solidified his resolve. Washio pulled away and stood up off of the bed. Konoha, confused, sat up to chase after his lips once more.

“On your knees.”

After a moment of shock, Konoha lit up and eagerly obliged, crawling slyly to a kneeling position on the floor in front of the standing figure. He sat back on his feet with hands in his lap, looking up at Washio through long blonde lashes. 

“Just what am I gonna do with you, huh?” Washio asked himself, tracing a finger across Konoha’s jaw and tilting his chin to meet his eyes directly.

“Well, I sure can think of a couple things,” he quipped, a mischievous glint in his eyes. As the sentence fell, he shifted his head and took Washio’s thumb into his mouth. 

Washio sucked in a breath through his teeth. The chamber that encompassed his thumb was so hot it almost burned. He pressed into the softness of Konoha’s tongue as he began sucking lightly on the digit and Washio felt dizzy. 

He smoothly removed his thumb from its cushy prison. Shifting his hand, he brushed Konoha’s kiss-swollen lips with his index and middle fingers. His mouth hung open in anticipation, tongue out and quivering. He looked up, playful gold eyes meeting Washio’s, as if challenging the man above him to step up and deliver. And Washio was not one to disappoint.

In one motion he touched into Konoha’s mouth, reaching until his fingers were comfortably seated inside. But Konoha was more ambitious this time, eager to either impress or mess with Washio even more. He grabbed Washio’s hand with both of his own, pushing him down further until his throat tightened around the fingertips as he swallowed around them. He pulled him back out, slowly swirling his tongue around the digits and reaching between, not missing a single inch of skin as if he was starving and Washio was the only sustenance he ever needed. Konoha rolled his tongue over top of the fingers, guiding Washio to touch the softness underneath. He took his time, savouring the treat and not breaking eye contact for a single moment.

Washio really would not have been surprised if he came right there, just from the sight of Konoha so hungrily and filthily swallowing his fingers while holding his gaze, a thin veil of feigned innocence that barely concealed his deviousness. He was like a fox, teasing Washio and pulling him in with just a preview of what he had to offer. Washio wanted nothing more than to fuck it out of him, until that stupid playful smirk melted away into blanked out bliss as he thoughtlessly begged and begged on his cock.

Washio pulled his fingers from the warm trap, and Konoha sucked lightly until the fingertips released from his lips with a soft pop. Konoha squirmed, rubbing his knees together in search of relief and Washio could see evidently why. The skirt was doing a pathetic job of concealing the fully standing boner under its folds, and the small stain of dark grey in the centre easily gave away just how aroused he was.

Konoha reached towards his own leaking erection before Washio grabbed his wrist away. He whined, almost bucking into the air just for the tiny bit of friction against the skirt’s pleats.

“So desperate already? Weren’t you the one to say we had all night?” Washio managed to tease despite his own growing impatience. Konoha couldn’t answer, only looking away and blushing a shade deeper in response. 

Kicking away his own sweatpants and standing closer, he guided Konoha’s hand onto the outline of his stiff cock where it strained against his boxers. “Look what you did,” he scolded, “Shouldn’t you take some responsibility?”

Konoha nodded eagerly, high on the musky scent overwhelming his senses and nearly salivating. He gingerly curled his fingers under the elastic and rolled the garment off, releasing Washio from his confines.

With a hand gently holding the tip and the other braced on his thigh, Konoha traced a path with his tongue from the base all the way to the head, following the prominent vein on the underside and finishing off with a wet kiss right on the crown. He blew cool air softly along the trail of saliva and watched as Washio shivered and twitched in his hand. 

Konoha didn’t delay any further, spitting onto the tip and rubbing it down the length before taking Washio into his mouth. He held him there for just a second, relishing the solid weight and familiar taste on his tongue. He then set off with a slow rhythm, bobbing his head lazily while twisting strokes onto the rest of the shaft in sync. Every few strokes, he ran his tongue over the sensitive slit and heard Washio grunt from above him. Even at the slow pace, Konoha knew what Washio liked and within seconds he already felt the recognizable heat building in his abdomen.

Washio sighed, closing his eyes and leaning into the sensation. He placed a hand onto Konoha’s head, but applied no further pressure, letting the blonde man take things at his own pace. Konoha clearly had other ideas, as his other hand came up to meet Washio’s, tightening his grip on his own hair. He slowed down more, gazing up in invitation as Washio’s eyes opened at the change in tempo.

A perk of having no gag reflex, Konoha did not mind letting Washio be more aggressive. Putting his hands back into his lap, he slacked his jaw and waited for guidance from the grip on his hair. Washio did not hesitate, pushing in until Konoha’s nose was brushing the bush of hair around the base. He bit back a grunt, Konoha’s throat tightening deliciously around his tip. He pulled back out, allowing Konoha a precious few seconds to gasp a breath before plunging back in, again and again. 

The obscene sounds of slurping and Konoha choking on his dick filled the room. Washio’s fingers were gripping onto Konoha’s roots for dear life as he tumbled closer to his orgasm with every time he knocked the back of his throat. Through the haze, he managed to notice Konoha’s hands sneaking towards his own neglected erection.

Washio stopped mid-thrust, “Palms flat on your lap.”

Konoha whined, sending vibrations straight through the cock still nestled in his mouth and earning a quiet groan from Washio, but he obliged with eyes still squeezed shut.

“No touching yourself, do you understand?” Washio pulled him off completely, tilting his head up and waiting for confirmation that he understood. Konoha opened his eyes, still watery from choking, and nodded begrudgingly, the tiny teardrops clinging onto his bottom lashes and threatening to fall. He was panting to make up for lost air, fists clutching the skirt and shifting on his knees with the effort of keeping his hands away. There was a mess of saliva and precum down his chin and his jaw must be aching by now, but he pulled against Washio’s grip, keen to have him back in his mouth again. 

Washio inhaled slowly, seeing Konoha’s eagerness was impossibly arousing him even further, but he released his grip on Konoha’s hair and crouched down to his level. “You like cock that much?” he asked, amused at how worked up Konoha had already become, without him having to even lay a hand on him.

He pushed Konoha’s hands to his sides to get a better view of the still hidden treat. The stain had grown bigger, the damp fabric now shining in the centre and clinging to the head. Washio couldn’t wait to see how red and swollen his pretty dick had become underneath. 

He teasingly dragged a knuckle up the underside of the outline, watching as Konoha gasped and tensed, body as taut as a thread on the verge of snapping. “Look how hard you got already, just from sucking dick. It almost looks like you could come right now.” 

He lightly held a finger to the slit and a moan rose from Konoha, followed by a string of profanity under his breath. His hips bucked but Washio pulled away before he could get any additional friction. “Do you think you can come untouched? Completely?”

At this, Konoha blanched, head snapping up to search Washio’s gaze for confirmation that he was simply teasing. He grabbed onto Washio’s forearm, pulling the hand back towards himself, and finally found his voice, “No. Please. You can’t,” strangely, a spurt of precum seeped into the fabric right at that moment, “you can’t do that to me, Tatsuki. Please you have to touch me come on.”

His words began rambling and the desperation was apparent from his large pleading eyes. Washio hummed, neither accepting nor denying the request. He scooped up Konoha from the floor, aware of how wobbly his knees must be, and plopped him back onto the bed.

Grabbing the lube from their nightstand on the way over, Washio squeezed a generous amount over his fingers, rubbing to warm up the gel before sitting between Konoha’s legs and pushing them towards his chest. With the skirt flipped over his stomach, the angry red tip laid exposed, glistening and sticking to the fabric. Konoha was completely still now with anticipation, waiting to be touched at long last. 

Washio pressed a finger to the entrance, feeling the muscle shudder against him. Konoha whimpered, wiggling his hips closer and bucking into Washio’s hand. Then, two slick digits pushed inside, and Konoha sighed at the familiar burn of the initial stretch. Washio allowed him only a couple slow strokes to adjust before picking up pace, scissoring him open and curling against the prostate just often enough to keep him on edge. As he added a third finger, twisting his wrist with the entrance, Konoha threw his head back and moaned, swearing with the same breath. He brought a fist to his mouth and bit on the knuckle, both to stifle the sound and to keep his hand away from his own cock, still leaking and aching for attention.

Without halting his motions, Washio took Konoha’s wrist back to his side and pinned it there, “Let me hear you.”

Konoha complied the request, crying out as Washio pressed into the spot yet again. Scissoring him open one last time, Washio pulled all three fingers out and the sudden emptiness had Konoha clenching around air. 

He flipped Konoha around onto his hands and knees, hastily grabbing a condom from the same nightstand and slipping it on with ease. Konoha was wiggling his ass impatiently, arching and pushing back to offer himself up to Washio. He knelt close, flipping up the skirt to reveal his perky cheeks before pressing his length against the quivering hole. The warmth was so enticing and he himself wanted nothing more than to sink inside. But not yet. 

He spread his hands over Konoha’s ass cheeks, kneading and spreading them as he slowly dragged his cock right over where Konoha wanted him most. He tried to grind back onto Washio, who in retaliation shifted his grip onto his hips, fingers digging in to stop his motion. He then stilled himself, simply kneeling there, waiting. 

Konoha wailed, “Tatsuki! Just fuck me already what the fuck?” He turned his head to glare, though the venom in his expression was greatly diluted by the clear desperation, poorly concealed behind his wide pupils. 

“What’s the magic word, Akinori?”

Stubborn to the bitter end, Konoha clenched his jaw and turned back around, reaching towards his own cock, apparently determined to get himself off without Washio’s help.

Once more, Washio snatched his hand away, twisting it to hold his arm behind his back this time. He huffed in protest, and Washio pushed him down by the back until his face was pressed against the sheets. Leaning next to his ear, Washio whispered, voice dropping low, “Tell me what you want.” He lined himself up with the rim, trembling and eager to suck him into its warmth. 

“I want you to fuck me.” Konoha answered, voice hardly above a whisper.

“Hmm I still didn’t hear the word there, Aki. Try again.” He pressed just a bit harder, barely dipping into Konoha’s heat.

A moment of silence sat heavy in the air, Konoha’s puckered hole twitched against Washio, before finally he caved, “Please! Ok? You happy? Please just fuck me now,” he nearly shouted, “I just want to come please make me come I’m going to explode I swear I-”

Before Konoha could finish the thought, Washio finally thrusted inside, bottoming out with one stroke. Konoha’s words cut off with a squeak and he moaned, clenching around the intrusion.

“See, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” Washio bit out. Without a pause, he pulled all the way out again before sinking back in. With slow, deep strokes he opened Konoha up until he was grinding back onto him, seeking more. 

Washio picked up the pace, slamming back inside each time harder than the last. Konoha’s mouth hung open in a quiet whine, steadily rising in pitch, and his face was pushed further into the mattress with each thrust.

“Please,” Konoha mumbled. The small amount of friction he got from the drenched skirt was nowhere near enough, and his untouched cock was so hard now that it hurted. The pain was muffled by the intense pleasure from behind, but the two sensations were beginning to mix dangerously at the edges. He tugged on his pinned wrist. “Please let me touch it please Tatsuki it hurts,” he whimpered, new tears welling up in his eyes. Whether because he wanted more or for it to stop, he didn’t quite know himself.

“Remember what I said earlier, Aki, be a good boy now.” Washio said firmly. He would’ve felt worse about making Konoha cry if he didn’t look so pretty doing it. Without slowing down, he straightened and his free hand pulled Konoha up with him, until his back was arched prettily and flush against Washio’s chest. Grabbing his other wrist, Washio secured both behind his back with one hand, allowing the other to wander to his front. Pinching and twisting a nipple between his fingers, Washio continued, “Good boys get rewarded.”

Konoha moaned wantonly at the promise of praise and reward in his near future. The change in angle allowed Washio to reach even deeper inside, and his breathy moans pitched into yelps everytime he grinded along his prostate. His knees were sliding further apart and he had no more strength in his body. If it weren’t for Washio holding him close he would’ve collapsed like a ragdoll. All his nerve endings were scorching and Konoha could swear he was on the brink of bursting into flames. He was right on the edge of the cliff, so close that just a breeze could push him over, but that last step seemed out of reach.

Abandoning the nipple, now red from abuse, Washio reached up and into his mouth, using the cheek to pull his head back further. Konoha couldn’t focus enough to suck on his fingers this time, instead just allowing the digits to hold his mouth open, saliva trailing down his chin and Washio’s hand. His brows furrowed and eyes rolled back. His knees ached, his thighs ached, his back ached, but at this point Konoha could no longer differentiate between the throbbing pain and sharp pleasure wracking his body. They were bleeding into each other, inconceivably amplifying every sensation and tearing Konoha apart. Washio’s hot breath was next to his ear, “You’re doing so well, baby, do you think you deserve a treat? Hm?” He was panting, voice gruff as he rapidly approached his own climax. 

Konoha shivered at his words and dripped onto the sheets below. Unable to form proper words anymore, he nodded and hummed eagerly.

Washio’s hand left his lips and went under the skirt. With a feather light fingertip, he touched, and Konoha gasped, every muscle contracting from the intensity of the sensation he had been longing for. He tightened around Washio and he groaned, biting out a warning through his teeth, “If you keep doing that I won’t last much longer.”

But with a loose grip, Washio committed, pulling quick strokes to match his own motion. Konoha was so sensitive, stuck between wanting to flinch away or grind into his fist even harder. His eyes were wide but unseeing, mind blank and ears ringing with the overwhelming tidal wave of stinging pleasure. Words fell from his mouth without him realizing, a jumbled mess of cuss words and ‘yes’ and ‘please’ and ‘Tatsuki’ and ‘more’. More. And more still.

Instead of simply tipping over that cliff he had been waiting to reach, Konoha was propelled. Within a couple strokes, he was unravelling completely, thighs quivering and spilling seemingly endlessly over Washio’s hand and into the skirt. He saw white and it wasn’t until he ran out of breath that he noticed he had been screaming. Every muscle was contracting to a point of cramping, and Washio groaned, the vice-like grip on him pushing him closer to his own climax. Blindly, he worked Konoha through his orgasm and chased after his own, biting Konoha’s shoulder to ground himself to earth. His thrusts were becoming sloppy, grinding carelessly even as Konoha began wincing from overstimulation, before at long last he groaned into the crook of Konoha’s neck, releasing his load into the condom. He slowed, loosening his grip on Konoha’s wrists and pulling out of the abused rim. He laid Konoha down on his back and, tying off the used condom, collapsed beside him. 

They laid in silence save for their panting, spent and sweaty, staring into the ceiling and trying to gather strength back into spasming legs, until Konoha breathed out, “Holy fuck.”

Washio chuckled, “Yeah. Sure was.”

“Fuck you for that.”

“You just did.”

“No! Well yes I did but I was talking about the skirt. It’s gonna be all gross now.”   
  
“... I’ll do the laundry today.”

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading :) you can find me on twitter [@getoworld](https://twitter.com/getoworld)


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